


Gingerbread

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Baking, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: A stupidly fluffy Christmas-themed domestic Rick/Negan oneshot in which Rick is terrible at baking and Negan decides to help him out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! I thought I'd try my hand at domestic fluff, and this ended up happening. I make no excuses, I'm just a huge sap.

“Rick, these are fucking terrible.”

“I told you, I usually get storebought.” Rick replies with a shrug, biting into the leg of a slightly-charred gingerbread man and immediately ducking his head to spit it into the trash can. He grabs Negan’s glass of milk and chugs half of it, desperate to get the taste of the burned, strangely spicy cookies out of his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, these taste like you were going for fucking Mexican fusion. What the hell did you put in them?” Negan is half laughing and half gagging. Rick bites the inside of his lip, trying to figure out how exactly he managed to fuck up this badly. The recipe had called for a tablespoon of cinnamon…he reaches across the counter to grab the unlabeled container of brown spice he’d dumped into the batter.

It sure looks like cinnamon to him. He opens the lid and takes a whiff, his eyes watering slightly when he does, his nose filling with spicy aroma that reminds him more of tacos than decking the halls.

Cumin. It’s cumin.

That…would explain some things.

Rick holds out the container to Negan, who takes it from Rick with a strange look. “So, funny story,” Rick starts, “I don’t do a lot of baking. As you may have gathered.”

Negan chuckles. “Yeah, I kinda figured from the fact that you seem to be using the fire alarm as an oven timer.”

“Shut up.” Rick grins, shaking his head. “I don’t bake a lot, so I’m pretty sure that’s been in the cabinet for at least four or five years. Lori did all the cooking, and obviously _she_ knew what was in there. And I may have just grabbed whatever looked like cinnamon and thrown it in.”

Negan is looking at him expectantly, still holding the cumin. “So what exactly is in here?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uh. I think it’s cumin or some kind of taco seasoning?” Rick says, torn between shame and laughter.

Negan isn’t torn in the least bit. He nearly doubles over with laughter.

“ _Je-sus_ , Rick! Fucking cumin gingerbread cookies. How the hell have your kids survived your cooking this long?”

Rick makes a face like he’s offended at the implication that he’s spent the last four years torturing his children with similar cooking disasters. “I can make a few things!” When Negan eyes him dubiously, he hangs his head with a smile. “Okay, so we order a lot of take out. And occasionally Carol takes pity on us and brings us a casserole.”

Negan shakes his head, still chuckling a bit. “Rick, you are one goddamned disaster. You have no idea how lucky you are to have me around.”

“What, so I can have another person begging me to call the pizza place down the street and order the usual?” Rick asks, grinning.

“No, you’re lucky to have me around because I’m a fucking fantastic cook.”

Rick stares blankly at him, ready for the punchline. Negan seems offended.

“What, you think I’m lying?”

Rick shrugs, eyebrows raised as if to say _I have my doubts_. Negan throws his hands in the air.

“Cooking isn’t hard, Rick! You just follow the fucking recipe. You have step-by step instructions!” There’s an amused smirk on his face.

“I followed the recipe!” Rick retorts. This is only mostly true.

“The recipe says to bake for eight to ten minutes. Nowhere in the recipe does it say _bake until the oven is pouring smoke and a fire extinguisher is required_.” Negan says, still smirking. Rick puts his hands up, conceding.

“Okay, fine. That’s fair. I would like to see you try to do better, though.” It’s Negan’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, Rick. I’ll do so much fucking better. There is so much about me you have yet to discover.”

Rick absolutely believes that. They’ve been seeing each other for a little over a year, and Rick still feels like he’s discovering new things about Negan on a regular basis.

Negan walks over to Rick and returns the cumin to him. “Do me a favor and put that somewhere far away, where you can’t find it and ruin more cookies.” He says, grinning. Rick obliges, making sure to grab a pen and write “cumin” in big, bold letters on the lid before shoving it into the back of the pantry.

Negan cracks his knuckles and looks at the disaster that is the countertop. On top of Rick not being a good cook, he’s also dismally messy in the kitchen. There’s flour strewn everywhere, various spoons and measuring cups are caked with batter, and broken eggshells are still sitting out, leaking the runny remains of egg whites.

With Rick’s help, Negan clears it off, dumping the dirty utensils in the sink and tossing the eggshells. He decides to deal with the flour after, because in all likelihood, there will be more where that came from. As Rick starts to wash out the measuring cups, Negan grabs a clean bowl and starts mixing ingredients.

“Um. Do you want the recipe?” Rick asks, eyeing the way Negan is tossing ingredients into the bowl without referring to any sort of guidelines. Negan spares Rick a glance and rolls his eyes.

“They’re gingerbread cookies, Rick. I’ve got this.” He says, much more confidently that Rick feels he should be, considering they've already had one small kitchen fire today. But he doesn’t push the issue, and instead opts to pull up a stool at the counter and watch as Negan works.

Negan throws the dough together quickly, setting the bowl in the fridge to chill while he clears off the counter and sprinkles some flour. Rick watches his hands as he rolls out the dough, cutting out the shapes of little men and putting them on the baking sheets that Rick scraped the charred remains of his own failed baking attempt off of. He finds himself impressed at Negan’s precision with the whole process. Until now, he’d assumed that Negan was just as hopeless in the kitchen as he was. Still, he can’t help but wonder, will they actually taste good?

Negan puts the first batch in the oven and sets the timer, turning around to catch Rick popping a glob of cookie dough into his mouth.

“That’s got raw eggs in it, you know.” He says, smirking as Rick licks his lips. “You could get salmonella or some shit.”

Rick ignores him. “Wow. This is actually good.” Rick mutters, impressed. Negan does that thing where he rolls his tongue between his teeth, which never fails to twist Rick up in knots, and steps out from behind the counter, coming up behind Rick and wrapping his arms around him, breath tickling his ear.

“Of course it is. I made it.” He gloats, forever cocky. Rick wriggles backward on the stool, pressing himself into the contact. Negan hums contentedly into Rick’s hair. “And despite all my hard work, I haven’t gotten a taste yet.”

A smile nudges at the edges of Rick’s lips and he reaches forward, Negan’s arms still around him, to grab another blob of dough. He lifts it to Negan’s lips and Negan takes it, letting his mouth linger on Rick’s fingers for a moment before swallowing.

“Mmm- _mm_. Yep, I’ve still got it.” He says. Then, he nuzzles in closer to Rick’s ear.

“That wasn’t what I meant when I said I wanted a taste, though.” He murmurs.

“Wh-” Rick is cut off mid-thought by Negan spinning him around in the stool, hands on either side of the counter so that Rick is between them. Negan leans in close, licking his lips before closing the gap between them, pressing his mouth to Rick’s.

Rick smiles into the kiss, groaning when he feels Negan’s tongue slip into his mouth, tasting him. He tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg and _home_ , and it makes Rick feel weak. Negan tangles his fingers into Rick’s hair, and Rick responds in kind, letting his hands slide down to Negan’s hips, fingers digging in and pulling him closer so that he’s right up between Rick’s legs.

Negan huffs out a breath against Rick’s mouth, and Rick uses the opportunity to lean up a bit and press light, teasing kisses to Negan’s neck, making the taller man squirm closer into him. They move against each other, all teasing touches and brushes of skin, until Negan loses patience and reaches for Rick’s belt buckle.

It’s at that moment that the timer goes off.

They both groan in unison, and Negan regretfully pulls away to take the cookies out of the oven, hating to stop but not wanting to have to pull out the fire extinguisher for a second time. He sets the tray on top of the stove and gets to rolling out more dough when Rick slides up behind him, lips against his back and hands sliding up the front of his shirt. He shudders involuntarily, arousal curling in his stomach as Rick’s fingers trace across his stomach and up his chest.

This particular batch of gingerbread men comes out looking slightly more haphazard and misshapen than the last.

Negan practically throws the tray into the oven and punches in eight minutes on the timer before whirling back around and pressing Rick up against the counter again.

“Okay, we have eight minutes.” He says, his eyes alight with the sort of impish mischief that makes Rick excited for what comes next. “Personally, I think we only need five, but I’ll take that time to tease you a little bit before I fuck you senseless against th-”

“Dad! Negan! We’re home!” Carl’s voice rings out as the front door swings open.

Negan nearly growls in frustration, but takes a step back from Rick anyway, not wanting Carl to walk in to see Rick pinned between Negan and the counter.

Carl walks into the kitchen, holding Judith’s hand. He’d gotten his license a few months ago, and Rick lets him pick Judith up from preschool a few days a week. Mostly because it was only five minutes from the house. Rick doesn't particularly like to think about Carl driving on his own, especially not with Judith in the car, no matter how responsible of a driver he is.

“It smells like smoke in here.” Carl says, his face concerned. “Did you set something on fire?”

Negan laughs as Rick reaches down and scoops Judith into his arms.

“Yeah, your dad did! Tried to make gingerbread cookies and nearly burned the kitchen down in the process. He also used cumin instead of cinnamon. It was a real fuc-” Rick gives Negan a look and Negan backtracks. “It was a real mess.” He finishes, looking over at Judith. “Sorry, Judy,” he coos, “I keep forgetting to watch my language around you.”

Carl laughs and drops his backpack on the floor beside the kitchen table, taking a seat at the counter. “So if dad burned everything, what are those?” he asks, indicating the tray of cookies cooling on top of the oven.

Negan smiles proudly. “Those are what happens when you let a competent chef run the show, right, Rick?” Negan says, grinning at his boyfriend.

“Jury’s still out on whether they taste good.” Rick replies with a wink, bouncing Judith on his hip.

“Ha! You’re full of shi- crap.” Negan retorts, “You said the dough was great.”

“Dough isn’t cookies. They could be terrible, for all I know.”

Negan is about to respond by pointing out that they are neither burned nor full of taco spice, so he’s got a better chance than Rick, but Carl interrupts their banter.

“Wait. Negan baked those? _Negan?_ ” He asks incredulously, his face disbelieving. Negan huffs out a mock-offended sigh.

“What is it with this family? Is it really so hard to believe that I have to ability to properly bake a damn cookie?” he asks. Carl nods his head slowly.

“Uh. Yeah. The only thing I’ve ever seen you make is a hot pocket.” Rick snorts loudly and Negan shoots him a glare.

“Untrue! Absolutely untrue, Carl. I distinctly recall making you toast just last week.” Negan says with a grin.

“It was underdone. You made me warm bread.”

Rick has to set Judith down on the floor because he’s nearly doubled over laughing at this point.  Negan flips him off before responding to Carl.

“Nonsense. I made you perfectly normal toast. Not my fault if you take after your dad and prefer your food burnt to hell.” Carl rolls his eyes and hops off the stool, walking over to the oven and taking a cookie off the tray.

“Only one way to find out if they’re any good.” He says, taking a bite. He chews for a moment as Rick and Negan watch, waiting for the verdict. He nods, pointing at Negan.

“Okay, these are pretty good. You make better cookies than toast.” He concedes.

“Yes!” Negan shouts, pumping his fist. He turns to Rick. “You see? To think, you doubted me.” He shakes his head in disappointment. The timer goes off again, and Negan pulls the second batch out to sit beside the first.

“So,” he asks, glancing between Carl and Judith, “Who’s gonna help me decorate?”

Judith claps her hands in delight and exclaims, “Me!” before darting over to Negan and reaching her arms up at him, ready to be lifted. Negan breaks into a full-face smile that melts Rick’s heart a bit and scoops her up, kissing her on the forehead before sitting her down on the counter.

Carl takes a seat at one of the counter stools, and while Rick knows that he’s just joining in for Judith’s sake, he appreciates it nonetheless. There aren’t a lot of teenage boys who would sit around frosting cookies so their little sister could have happy family memories.

Rick takes a seat beside Carl and watches as Negan and Carl help Judith with the cookie decorating. Negan’s given her a plastic knife and she’s happily frosting away, half of it ending up on her hands. She dumps the better part of a bottle of colored sugar onto one cookie, and Negan moves to pour the excess back into the bottle. She’s a complete mess by the end of the whole thing, but she’s giggling as Carl tries to wipe the icing off of her forehead.

Rick knows he probably looks like a complete sap, sitting there watching them and smiling like an idiot, but it’s not something that he could have ever imagined for himself, or for his family, and he can’t help but want to just soak it all in.

After Lori died, he was dead to the world for a long time, and after he managed to finally break out of that funk, he had no interest in trying to start again with anyone else. Nobody else could compare, not in his mind; nobody else even stirred his interest. So for three years, he’d flown solo and focused on building a family with his kids.

He’d rationalized it by telling himself that Judith wouldn’t even remember Lori or know to miss her, and that Carl would likely take issue with anyone who he felt was trying to replace his mom. Rick could be enough for them. And he could have, certainly. His kids were his whole world.

Then he’d met Negan, and his world had gotten a little bigger. Rick, after not having looked at another person in an even remotely romantic way for three years, found himself helplessly in love. And, after some initial awkwardness and discomfort from Carl, he and Judith came to love Negan, too.

In truth, Rick thought that the reason that Carl ended up coming around to Negan was because he was so completely unlike Lori. He was loud, brash, vulgar, liked to push people’s buttons. He could be a bit of an asshole. Rick had worried that Negan’s… _colorful_ …personality would keep Carl from bonding with him, but in reality it seemed to have the opposite effect. Probably because Negan treated Carl more like an adult than most people Rick’s age.

Rick watches as Negan sweeps a now frosting-free Judith off the counter and into his arms, bouncing her and making faces. Negan, as Rick quickly learned, is a man who is full of endless surprises, but certainly one of the biggest ones was how good he is with kids. Judith positively adores him, and watching Negan play with her like she’s his own kid makes Rick’s heart swell.

* * *

 

That evening, after Judith’s been put to bed and Carl’s in his room having a skype date with his girlfriend, Edith, Rick and Negan are laying on the couch together in the living room. _It’s a Wonderful Life_ is playing on the tv, the black and white screen dimly lighting the otherwise dark room, but it’s turned so low down that neither can hear it. There’s a half-eaten plate of gingerbread men on the coffee table that they’ve both been nibbling at, and Negan’s sprawled out so that he takes up most of the couch and Rick is forced to settle between his legs, his back to Negan’s chest. Negan is playing with the curls at the nape of Rick’s neck when Rick asks him the question that’s been on his mind all day.

“So where’d you learn how to cook, anyway?” The cookies had indeed ended up being delicious. Rick’s eaten more than a couple throughout the day.

Negan keeps running his fingers through Rick’s hair as he answers. “Lucille taught me, back when we first started dating. She said there was nothing sexier than a man that knew how to cook, so I told her that if that was true she needed to teach me.” He chuckles at the memory. “She was a hell of a chef, always joked that she wanted to open her own restaurant. She coulda done it, too. She was that good.”

There’s a fondness in his voice that Rick recognizes instantly. It’s the same tone he uses when he talks about Lori.

“I’m nowhere near as good as she was,” Negan continues, “But she taught me a few things. Plus, I know better than to just dump in whatever I can find and hope for the best, unlike some people I know.” Rick digs his elbow into Negan’s side, making him grunt and then laugh. He nudges at Rick’s shoulder, trying to get him to turn around.

Rick obliges, rolling over so that they’re face-to face. Negan is smiling that mischievous smile again. “You know, we never got to finish what we started in the kitchen earlier.” He purrs, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Need curls itself in Rick’s stomach, and he presses forward to crush their lips together.

Negan makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat and wraps his arms around Rick, pulling him closer. Rick’s tongue dips into Negan’s mouth, causing them both to groan and Rick to grind himself shamelessly against the man beneath him. Negan’s grip on Rick’s hair tightens as bucks his hips up into Rick’s, making him gasp against his mouth.

After a moment, Negan pulls back, breathless and grinning. “You taste like my cookies.” He gloats as Rick starts peppering kisses down the side of his neck. He slides a hand up Negan’s thin t-shirt, pinching his nipples and letting his fingernails scratch down his chest. Negan makes a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat when Rick’s hand slides down lower, cupping him through his pants and giving him a squeeze. He arches up into Rick’s touch and he feels Rick smiling against his throat as he moves to unzip his jeans, and then he’s kicking them off when Rick pulls back, his hands on Negan’s waist.

Negan’s about to ask Rick what the hell he’s doing and tell him to finish what he started when Rick hooks his fingers into the top of Negan’s boxers and pulls them down, pressing a kiss to the center of Negan’s chest before he settles in between his thighs. Negan has to bite down on his lip to keep from waking the whole house when he feels Rick’s tongue running up the underside of his cock. As it is, when Rick dips his head and engulfs Negan in the wet heat of his mouth, he can hear himself groaning in approval. Rick’s mouth can work some goddamn wonders.

Then Rick is bobbing his head and humming around him and teasing the slit with his tongue. Negan’s fingers are still tightly wound into Rick’s hair as he sucks him off, and it isn’t long before Negan’s moaning out a wrecked noise and coming apart in Rick’s mouth, bucking his hips as he feels Rick swallow around him.

After he catches his breath, Negan tugs lightly at Rick’s hair and Rick crawls back up his body, kissing him hot and wet and open-mouthed, Negan’s tongue dipping in to taste him.

“You don’t taste like gingerbread anymore,” He murmurs against Rick’s mouth as Rick shoves playfully at his shoulder. Negan leans in and nips at Rick’s earlobe, making him shudder.

“Your turn,” he whispers, reaching down to start working Rick’s pants down his legs. When he gets them off, he sits up a bit so that Rick’s on his lap and lifts two of his fingers to Rick’s lips. “Suck,” he purrs, and Rick doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly takes Negan’s fingers into his mouth, wetting them. A small, needy sound escapes his lips when Negan pulls them out and lowers them to press against Rick’s entrance, teasing the rim.

Negan grins and smothers Rick’s groan with his lips as he slowly presses them inside, allowing Rick a moment to adjust before he starts to thrust them in and out, finding Rick’s prostate after a couple strokes and making him whimper. Rick’s hands are knotted into the back of his shirt, fingertips digging into his shoulders as he fucks himself on Negan’s fingers, and Negan loves every second of it. He can feel Rick’s cock throbbing between their bodies, and it’s tempting to reach down and wrap a hand around him, but he resists. He loves making Rick fall apart without ever having touched his cock.

As it is, Rick is dangerously close to falling apart already. When Negan hooks his fingers inside him, he’s gone, smothering his cry of pleasure in Negan’s shoulder and he rides out his orgasm.

Rick collapses against his chest and Negan lies back so that they’re in a more comfortable position. He can feel Rick’s heavy breathing as he reaches up to card his hands through Rick’s curls again, their bare legs twining together.

Rick nuzzles into Negan’s chest, breathing him in and enjoying the mindless haze of his afterglow. He feels Negan shifting a little below him and reluctantly raises his head to see that Negan biting off the head of a gingerbread man.

“How many of those have you eaten?” Rick teases, leaning in to bite off a leg. Negan grins.

“What can I say, Rick? I make some damn good cookies. And I worked up a bit of an appetite just now.”

Rick chuckles and pulls himself up further to press his lips to Negan’s. Their kiss is cinnamon-flavored and Rick decides in that moment that letting Negan do the baking was a good call.


End file.
